Forever Ends in the Morning
by merle chandra
Summary: It's 10 years after the strike and Jack asks Spot to visit him in Santa Fe. Spot meets someone, and the two fall in love. But how long will it last? (I'm not good at summaries, but please read, it will get good. I think)


Disclaimer: Sadly, I own neither Jack, Spot, nor the Brooklyn newsie on Spot's dock; I do, however, own the barmaids... as they are myself and 2 friends.  
AN: Okay, this is my first ever fanfic, so if it's bad, I apologize. It will continue past this chapter regardless of whether or not you review. But for your reading pleasure PLEASE REVIEW!!!! I don't plan on doing anything nifty with flames, maybe I'll put them in an envelope and send them to Raven Toboggans, though…  
  
Forever Ends in the Morning  
  
Ch. 1: Rains and Trains, How Fun  
  
Rain, Spot thought as he looked out the window, I hate rain. This was not shaping up to be a great day for Spot because he hated trains worse than rain, but here he was boarding one, in the weather condition he hated most. "The things I do for Jackey-boy," he muttered. Spot looked sullenly out the window at the familiar territory he was leaving. But I'll be back soon, real soon, he remembered.  
  
The cabin in which he was seated was boring, very plain, and nondescript, so Spot forced himself to look out the window. As the rain splashed against the sidewalks, and the rooftops, and the windows, a long untouched memory was brought to the surface of Spot's mind. The day eight years ago when Jack "Cowboy" Kelly left New York City….  
  
***  
  
A bell rang as the door to Tibby's opened. Spot could hear the happy cried of the newsies as they greeted whoever just entered. Spot was in the back thinking about how happy he was. Soon after the strike Ol' Tibby died, and Spot decided that at 19, soon to be 20, it was time he looked for bigger venues, and managing Tibby's was that venue. The meeting place for newsies had been his for a little over a year now. It was 1901, Spot was 21, and felt good to be alive.  
  
He meandered his way to the front of the restaurant where he was that it was Jack who entered. Everyone smiled as he greeted the now 19-year-old in the familiar fashion, "well, if it isn't Jack-be-nimble, Jack-be-quick," the two spit in their palms and shook.  
  
"It's good to see ya, Spot. Hey, got any sauerkraut? I could really go for some right now," Spot yelled back Jack's order and then sat down with his best friend whose face had gone from jovial to grim far too quickly.  
  
"I got news for ya, Spot,"  
  
"Yeah? Ya always do,"  
  
"This is different; bad news," Jack looked up at Spot from the napkin he had been tearing, "I broke up with Sarah." Spot was floored, the two had been happily dating for two years since the strike.  
  
"Wh- wh- what? Why?"  
  
"Well," Jack started slowly, "I'm 19 now, and I got to thinkin' about you and this place, and I realized that, well, I can't be a newsie forever. So, for real this time, I'm moving to Santa Fe."  
  
Spot blinked. He blinked again. Then pinched himself. Hard.  
  
"Ow," he whispered while rubbing his arm, and sat stunned in silence for a moment before finally getting out, "you mean it, Jack?"   
Jack nodded slowly, "I've talked it over with the boys and they'll take care of the place for me." The boys Jack was referring to meant the Manhattan regulars, Davey, Kid Blink, Mush, and Specs. Race has started working at Sheepshead and told Jack that he would come back to keep an eye on things now and again.  
  
"My train leaves tomorrow, Spot. I'll keep in touch," Jack stood up and looked a tad ashamed. Spot stood as well and, in a brotherly gesture, put his hand on Jack's shoulder.  
  
"I'm a you, Kelly, gettin' out an' all," Spot put his other hand on Jack's other shoulder and said, "But if you're really leavin', Jack, don't you ever come back," and hugged him.  
  
***  
  
Spot scoffed. That musta been a sight to see: two a New York's toughest leadah's huggin' in a public restaurant. Aw hell, Spot thought, it's my restaurant, what do I care?  
  
Besides, he had better things to think about. It was eight years later and Jack had written to Spot to come out to Santa Fe. Spot said he would come out whenever he was needed. And now he was. Jack Kelly, Francis Sullivan, whatever you call him, Cowboy was getting married. 


End file.
